


You Shouldn't Be Alone, I'm Here

by Quipplepunk



Series: Sirius Black [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Cutting, Flashbacks, Gen, Hogwarts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Liberal use of the word fuck, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Triggers, stressors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipplepunk/pseuds/Quipplepunk
Summary: In psychology, a “trigger” is a reaction to something that is directly linked to a person’s trauma. One example of a reaction is a panic attack. A “stressor” is a situation that becomes overwhelming. For people that have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), too much stress can set off symptoms of the disorder, without an obvious trigger.Sirius and James prepare to leave for Hogwarts. Will the change in place, schedule, and expectations prove to be too much for Sirius? Can Remus help pick up the pieces?
Relationships: Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, sirius black & james potter & fleamont potter & euphemia potter
Series: Sirius Black [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709893
Kudos: 23





	You Shouldn't Be Alone, I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius has run away from his parents and has been living with the Potters for the summer.

“What’s all this?” Sirius asks, grinning from ear to ear.

“This is your last day of summer vacation breakfast!” Mr. Potter says, gesturing towards the stove. He is wearing an apron and powdered sugar is all over him and the kitchen.

“Mmmmm, mmm,” James says, sniffing the air as he strolls into the kitchen. “Smells fantastic, dad!” 

“Why, thank you,” Mr. Potter says, setting down two heaping plates of food on the table. James jumps into a seat in front of one plate and Sirius slips in front of the other.

“You really have outdone yourself, dear,” Mrs. Potter says with a smile as she glides into the kitchen.

“You say that as if you don’t outdo yourself every time you cook,” Mr. Potter chuckles. 

Mrs. Potter gives Mr. Potter a peck on the cheek. “Flatterer,” she says, taking the full plate that he hands her. “Please finish packing for Hogwarts today. Ok, boys? I don’t want a repeat of last year.” Mr. and Mrs. Potter sit next to each other at the table. 

“What happened last year?” Sirius asks, smirking and looking at James. 

“Nothing happened,” James says, sliding down in his seat some. 

“Oh, I seem to remember that differently, James,” Mr. Potter snickers between bites of sausage. 

James’s face flushes some. He shovels pancake into his mouth and shrugs. 

“Uh-oh, Jamesy. What’d you forget?” Sirius looks from James to Mrs. Potter. “How far did you get before you had to turn back?” 

“Oh, not that far. Kings Cross had only just come into view,” Mrs. Potter says over her cup of tea. 

“All the way to – hahahaha!” Sirius throws his head back as he laughs. He turns in his chair to face James fully. “Come on, Jamesy. Tell me. What did you forget? What did you have to turn around and come all of the way home to get?” 

James’s face grows a deeper shade a red. He looks anywhere but at Sirius’s face. “I only forgot…” he starts. James pauses to shove fork-fulls of scrambled eggs into his mouth. With much too much food in his mouth, he says, “huph uh huhole uh ah uherair.” 

Mrs. and Mr. Potter stifle laughs. Sirius squints at James, ignoring the bits of egg flying out of James’s mouth, some of which is landing on Sirius. “Just a couple of…” A smile slowly takes over Sirius’s concentrated face. James’s face flushes a new shade of red and he swallows hard, forcing all of the food down in one go. Sirius continues, “Just a couple of my …” His face breaks into a wide toothy grin. “Oh, Jamesy. You forgot to pack your underwear. And you made mommy and daddy drive all the way home to get them, instead of just buying new when you got to school.” 

Mrs. and Mr. Potter laugh as James groans. “Listen,” James says, “You know that I’m picky about how clothes fit. And it’s hard to find –” 

“Ooohhh, I’m James. I’m so precious and delicate that I need special underwear,” Sirius mocks. 

James rolls his eyes and says, “Alright, alright. Have your laugh. Just wait and see what happens to your underwear once we get to school!” 

“My underwear?” Sirius is suddenly very still and stoic. “James Fleamont Potter. I’ll have you know that I don’t wear anything under these impossibly tight jeans, thank you.” 

James’s mouth drops open for a moment. His shock only lasts for as long as Sirius can hold his composure, though. As a snicker escapes Sirius’s lips, James hits Sirius on the arm and says, “You wanker.” Sirius laughs. The two turn back to their food. 

“Mm, mm, mm,” Mrs. Potter tuts softly. “I’m going to miss you two.” 

James looks up from his plate. “Awh, mum. Don’t cry.” 

Sirius meets Mrs. Potter’s eye. He smirks and says, “You had two of us for most of the summer. You’re used to one. Doesn’t that mean you’ve had your fill of teenage nuisances for two summers these last few weeks?” 

Mrs. Potter hums out a small laugh. Mr. Potter lays a gentle hand on her back, rubbing slowly. “Neither of you are a nuisance,” Mr. Potter says, his eyes teary. 

“Oh, not you, too, dad!” James says, putting his fork down for the first time since breakfast started. His lip quivers. 

“It was supposed to be funny! Oh, jeeze, James. Why are you like this?” Sirius rests his elbows on the table and leans his forehead into his hand. 

“We’re all just a bunch of saps, aren’t we?” Mrs. Potter laughs, wiping away her tears with a napkin. The others laugh along, wiping their tears and dripping noses on their sleeves. “For heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Potter says. “Were you all raised by wolves? Wiping your faces on your sleeves. You act like you’ve never seen a napkin before.” Her words may seem strict, but her tone is light and teasing. 

“Awoo!” Sirius howls, suspiciously well. 

The conversation dissolves into plans for the day and the next. Sirius starts scratching absentmindedly at the skin on one of his wrists. 

“Getting anxious, are you?” James says to Sirius as the two clear their plates away. 

“Hm? No. What makes you ask?” Sirius replies. 

“Dunno,” James shrugs. “Wanna pack before we collect Peter and Remus for our last day of freedom?” 

James starts up the stairs. Sirius follows. In their respective rooms, the boys pack up their text books, quills, cauldrons, and robes. James buries a box of Wonko’s products under his belongings. Sirius tosses his bracelets and necklaces in his trunk on top of the rest of things he has thrown inside. They pack their tooth brushes, hair potions, and cologne. 

“Hey, Sirius, do you want to just quit for now and –” James stops short upon entering Sirius’s room. Sirius is in the fetal position on the floor by the foot of his bed. James crosses the room in three long paces and kneels next to Sirius, “Hey, hey, hey,” James says soothingly. He places a soft hand on Sirius’s shoulder. 

Sirius is crying. His breaths are coming fast and shallow. He’s shaking. “James,” Sirius chokes out. 

“I’m here,” James says quietly. “It’s going to be ok.” 

“I, I, I – ” Sirius stutters. 

“It’s ok. Ssshhh. You don’t have to talk right now,” James says, now brushing his fingers through Sirius’s long hair. 

“I,” Sirius sobs, “I can’t. I can’t.” 

James continues to whisper gentle comforting words to Sirius. James reminds Sirius to count his breaths and breathes along with him. Several minutes pass before Sirius is calm enough to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” James continues to run his fingers through Sirius’s hair. “What set off your panic attack? Do you know?” 

“Uhm,” Sirius says, sitting up slowly. “I think… It’s just that… Last year, my parents…” Sirius begins to hyperventilate again. 

“Sirius,” James says firmly. He holds Sirius’s upper arms tightly. “You’re ok. It’s going to be ok. Just remember to breathe.” 

They take a few deep breaths together before Sirius says, “I think it was that fucking seal.” He punches the side of his trunk. The lid falls down and the Black family crest snaps the chest closed. 

“Mmm,” James nods. “What if we –” 

“No,” Sirius cuts off James’s words. “I’ve tried. You can’t take it off, you can’t write over it, you can’t scratch it up so you can’t see it anymore. It’s hopeless.” 

“Hmm.” James runs a hand through this hair. “What if…” James stands and reaches into Sirius’s trunk. He pulls out a scarf and ties it around the lid so that the four sides are covered, including the Black family crest on the latch. James stands back to look at his handiwork, making jazz hands and saying, “Ta-da!” 

Sirius hauls himself to his feet and stands next to James. Sirius huffs out a laugh. “That’s not going to stay on, you know,” he says. 

James shrugs and says, “But it’ll do for now, won’t it?” 

Sirius shrugs and studies the trunk. “Yeah. For now, it’s good.” 

James slaps Sirius on the back, then wraps his arm around Sirius’s shoulders. “Let’s go get Wormy and Moony. We can gather up anything we forgot later.” 

As James leads Sirius out of the room, Sirius says, “You mean, like, your fancy underwear?” 

***

_“Fuck,”_ Sirius thinks. His shoulders relax and he closes his eyes. Spread out in front of him on the cold, hard floor of the bathroom attached to his dorm room is a pile of individually wrapped alcohol wipes, gauze, medical tape, a screw, and a pack of needles. Sirius opens his eyes and raises a rusty blade from his leg to reveal a beaded line of blood. Seeing the blood does not make Sirius sick to his stomach. The cut does not hurt. The floor does not feel cold. 

Sirius stares blankly into the middle distance, his body swaying to his heartbeat. He is breathing shallowly out of his mouth. A dull burning sensation fills his chest. His eyes flick back and forth as images flash through his mind:  
_“You bring shame to the House of Black!” his mother spits as she throws a cup of wine on his face._  
_“Your brother should not have been able to master that before you, Sirius. You should be ashamed,” his tutor says, smacking him over the head with a ruler._  
_“Good enough?” Bellatrix bites out. “This isn’t even close to acceptable, you fool!” She shoves Sirius back so hard he falls onto the floor, narrowly missing the stone of the fireplace in his parents’ sitting room._

Sirius shakes his head. Quickly, he slides the blade over his skin three more times. Not satisfied with the sight, he lines up the blade and slices down the same cuts again. His leg jumps and he shivers. His head pounds and his breath is coming faster now. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sirius emits a quiet, agonizing groan. When he opens his eyes again, his vision is blurry. He pants, his eyes darting from side to side again.

 _“No, not that,”_ Sirius thinks. He grasps the razor and scratches over his thigh. The cuts are not deep. They crisscross and bunch together. Sirius continues until there is a raw hand-sized patch of skin across his leg. He sits back and takes a few deep breaths. He glares, looking down at his leg. He is shaking and the nerves in his leg are prickling. The cuts do not hurt. The floor is not too hard. But the lights are too bright and the room is too small. Sirius grits his teeth and pitches the razor across the room. It smacks the wall hard and makes a dull noise when it lands on the floor. Sirius scoots back and thumps his head against the wall. He hugs himself across his midsection, unknowingly scratching his arm until it bleeds. 

The door to the bathroom opens. Sirius jumps up, quickly turning so that his bloodied leg isn’t visible from the door. “It’s occupied!” 

“Sirius, this bathroom is meant to be used by more than one person at a time,” Remus says, closing the door behind him. 

“Not right now it’s not,” Sirius looks over his shoulder and shoots Remus a dangerous look. 

Remus looks at the pile of supplies on the floor, then looks back up to Sirius. Remus walks over to a stall and uses the toilet. Sirius shoves the things on the floor into a plastic baggie and tosses it into a far corner; the smack it makes when it hit the floor is covered by the flushing toilet. Remus opens the door of the stall and Sirius’s eyes fall on the bloodied razor on the floor. Remus follows Sirus’s gaze. 

Remus looks back to Sirius, then calmly walks to the sink to wash his hands. Remus watches Sirius in the mirror. After drying his hands, Remus walks over to the baggie of supplies and picks it up. He tosses it to Sirius, who catches it in one hand. “The smell of blood woke me up,” Remus says. Sirius’s brow is furrowed into a glare, but his eyes are watering and he frowns to still his quivering lip. His nostrils are flared and his shoulders are tense. “Will talking help?” Remus asks. Sirius swallows hard and breaks eye contact with Remus. “I could talk and you could listen,” Remus says slowly. “Or you can talk and I can listen.” He pauses then adds, “Or we could both talk about nothing.” He carefully approaches Sirius, who is leaning into the wall and staring at the floor. “Or we could sit in silence together.” 

Remus reaches out to touch Sirius’s shoulder, but Sirius bats Remus’s hand away. Sirius turns to face Remus, bloodied front exposed. “Or you could leave me the fuck alone,” Sirius grinds out. 

“I could, yes,” Remus says. “But I’m not going to. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

“What do you know? You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Remus.” Sirius wants to sound angry, but his voice is quivering. 

“I wouldn’t think of telling you what to do. I’m in control of only what I do. And I am choosing to not leave you alone.” 

“Why? I don’t fucking want you here. I don’t fucking need you here. Go away!” 

Remus shakes his head and walks to the door connecting the bathroom to the dorm. He sits on the floor and leans against the door, watching Sirius. 

“Remus, I fucking swear to every fucking god there is, if you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Remus’s face is blank. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just sits and watches Sirius. “Do something!” Sirius yells. “Get up! Get out! Leave!” Sirius takes two threatening paces forwards, fists raised. 

Remus stares for a long moment then shrugs. “You just do what you have to do, Sirius. And I’ll be here. And you won’t be alone.” Sirius, slack jawed, drops his fists and takes a half of a step back. “Just… do what you gotta do, mate.” 

Sirius glowers at Remus. He opens his mouth to speak, but has no words. With a huff, Sirius stalks into a stall. Sirius sits on the edge of the toilet and rips open an alcohol wipe, tossing the wrapper on the floor. The sight of his leg makes him sick to stomach now. Not much blood comes off when he wipes across his skin. Much of the blood has clotted and congealed. When he scrubs harder, the cuts reopen and begin to bleed again. Sirius pauses, holding his head in his hands. “Just…” he says under his breath. He clenches his fists and shouts, “Fuck!” 

Remus rises from his place and walks up to the stall Sirius is in. Seeing Remus’s feet under the door, Sirius calls out, “It’s occupied.” Remus doesn’t move or say anything. After a moment, Sirius says, “Remus. You’re creeping me out. It feels like you’re a zombie waiting for me to open the door so you can eat me.” 

Remus takes a few steps to the side and leans on a sink. Sirius tries to clean his leg again, but the dry blood just rolls into small, tacky balls that pull on the hair on his leg and threaten to reopen the cuts. “Fuck it,” Sirius says, standing and exiting the stall. 

Sirius makes a bee line for the door that leads to the shared bedroom portion of the dorm. Yanking the door open, Sirius pauses and glances over his shoulder at Remus. Remus pushes off the sink and causally follows Sirius across the room. As Remus reaches the door, Sirius darts out and shuts the door in Remus’s face. Sirius jumps onto his mattress and roughly closes the curtains around his bed.


End file.
